


Someone I used to know: A Molly's POV

by Akasha_RC



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Community: sherlockbbc_fic, GOTYE - Freeform, Gen, Hurt Sherlock, I Believe in Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Songfic, somebody that i used to know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 22:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akasha_RC/pseuds/Akasha_RC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~"Sherlock is dead, to John, but to me he is in my life, and i should feel very great about it but now i just feel like he is someone i used to know." ~Molly</p><p>(Not in the work, for now).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone I used to know: A Molly's POV

**Author's Note:**

> i own not the song nor the show or charecters. it is a songfic.
> 
> the song is by GOTYE it is, Somebody I Used To Know (feat. Kimbra)
> 
> And the show is by BBC Sherlock, Moffat,Gatiss,Vertue
> 
> [sorry if i confused anyone with how i had posted the same fic twice, i meant to have put this one up].

Disclaimer: I own nothing, and make no profit from it. BBC Sherlock belongs to BBC, and the shows creators, Mark, Sue, and Steven Moffat. As well as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I also do not own the song, Somebody That I Used To Know, that is owned by GOTYE.

[A songfic]

Now and then I think of when we were together,  
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die,  
Told myself that you were right for me  
But felt so lonely in your company  
But that was love and it’s an ache I still remember.

 

Molly’s POV:

I always thought of how my life would be as Mrs. Holmes, but of course Sherlock always pointed out that he would prefer to be by himself then with me or any other person that was not John. He felt so happy he could die when this whole mess was over and he was back with John.

Those three years I knew he was alive didn’t even make it seem like we had grown to be any more than strangers who happened to know each other’s names. I still felt so lonely in his company, the only time I felt like I was connecting with him was when I was telling him how John was doing, but it made me ache inside because the love I had for him was never corresponded.

 

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness  
Like resignation to the end, always the end  
So when we found out we could not make sense  
Well you said that we could still be friends  
But I’ll admit that I was glad it was over.

 

I was used to the hurt and the sadness that was Sherlock’s rejection, but I was addicted to the feeling that was telling him how I felt and getting a response from him. He confided in me because I was the one he trusted when John could not help, I was like his second choice, but I was still a choice. 

Just once I finally felt free of everything, and that was before his fall, before he left John for nearly three years, because it was too dangerous for him to be near him. I was his friend, his confidante, but he always asked about John, the first few months it was hard to tell him anything because John was still suffering from the concussion he suffered, then his PTSD came back and so did the nightmares and then when he had moved out it was hard telling him I had no idea where John was.

Then he contacted his brother and he gave me his address to make sure he was all right and eating properly. After that I visited John nearly everyday, and I kept an eye on him, as I did Sherlock, and then it got easier to tell Sherlock what John was doing after he moved back in to 221B Backer Street. Mycroft helped convince him, as he knew that Sherlock was almost ready to come back. I was glad it was nearly over.

But you didn’t have to cut me off  
Make out like it never happen  
And that we were nothing  
And I don't even need your love but you treat me like a stranger  
And I feel so rough.  
No, you didn’t have to stoop so low have your friends collect your records,  
And then change your number  
I guess that I don't need that though  
Now you’re somebody that I used to know

 

Once he had return he didn’t talk to me at all he kept many weeks with John in the flat, and who knows what they were doing. He came back and he started to act as if the three years where nothing, as if they had never happen, and I felt so low, like he was rejecting me once again.  
The week he was coming back I tried the number I had, and the safe house he was at, but I could not reach him. I was worried for his safety. I almost though it was all compromised. I had decided that I would visit his brother, but as I did I saw one of Mycroft’s men come and take everything that I owned of what he had given me, and then I knew he was safe. But he had sent strangers to collect his stuff, he couldn’t have waited to collect his things, but I guess he didn’t want John thinking the worst, of both of us. He had changed his number and I didn’t get a response from him until a month after he had return.  
But I guess I didn’t need it though, because he had announced that he and John were serious, at the party that was his return. They were dating, and I was devastated even though I knew that in some way they were both soul mates. I guess the man I knew when he was in hiding was just someone that I used to know, maybe even a fragment of my imagination.

 

Now and then I think of all the times  
You screwed me over  
Part of me believing it was always  
Something that I had done  
But I don't want to live that way  
Reading into every word  
You say  
You said that you could let it go,  
And that I wouldn’t catch you  
Hung up on  
Somebody that I used to know

 

Every once in a while I think of all the times I had helped him, before John was in his life. Was I just a distraction from the drugs? Once John was available was he focused on him more then the drugs? That at least I am grateful for, but I still think of how I was always there for him, yet I never got a thank you or any kind of recognition. 

I always read too much into every word he said to me, like the time I wore lipstick and he noticed, but it was just a bit before he met John. While Sherlock was in hiding, and he would return to me in crazy fevers, or drugs, he would always call me John. Once he even hugged me and told me he was sorry, in a slur, I reached his forehead with my hand, and he had a high fever and I had to care of him. He kept calling me John, and once I had him resting in a bed he had told me to stay with him. When I awoke he was gone.

I don't know who I am with out him, but I should. All I know is that if John really loves him he should really love him more then I could ever love Sherlock. He has to protect him and care for him and keep him away from drugs because he almost relapsed after he almost gave up in trying to find the last gunman. John had taken my place as caretaker the minute he decided to move in with Sherlock, but he was pretty mad with Sherlock after he had announced he was alive. I had to talk to John, and I made him listen to me, because I saw Sherlock nearly using again, I only stopped him because I had his brother interfere, while I talked to John.

John was very reluctant to talk to me for about five minutes, until I said that Sherlock had to fake his death, not because he wanted to but to save his life. John then made tea, and I told him why he had to fake his death, and I told him, that I could see it I his eyes for a very long time how he wanted Sherlock to be alive, and I told him he had a second chance with him. 

“John you have to listen to him, he was made to jump as a fraud, Moriarty made him. All I know is that Moriarty had three gunmen, one for you, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. If had not jumped, they were going to kill you three, the most important people in the world to him.” I said.

“What about you? You were always important to him.” John said.

“No I was just useful, even now when he said, he needed me, and he was using me. I was just another contact, not a friend or a more special person, like you. To him you are his life John.” I said.

“But he came to you for help, why couldn’t he just have told me that he needed to fake his death, why leave me thinking he was gone. I cried myself to sick, and I also mourned him for nearly three years, and he couldn’t even leave a hint that he was all right. I should be mad at you too for keeping this secret from me, but you helped me, and him.” He said still hurting, and on the verge of spilling more tears.

“The reason he faked his death was to make you and everyone believe it, he had to, had you had any hope that he was alive everyone would be dead. Anyone he had ever known would have been dead. Not only had he gone into hiding from the gunmen, he also did it to try and dissolve Moriarty’s criminal web that he had left behind.” I said, a little angrier because John was just as stubborn as Sherlock when you tried to explain simple things to him.

“Please John, just listen to what he has to say, he nearly touched his dugs again because he was very devastated, I had to call his brother just to come here. Just listen to what he has to say, and I am almost sure you won’t be disappointed. And if you forgive him, never leave him alone unless necessary, and please, just take care of him, and love him like no one else, and I am glad you are the one stepping up to stand where I once almost stood.” I told him.

He grabbed his jacket and I took him to where Mycroft had him. I left back to the morgue where I was surrounded with bodies who could not talk back, which is what I preferred. I knew that John would take Sherlock and they would be happy, because Sherlock had become someone I once knew. The one who returned was more humane, but he was still the same as ever.

After they had talked it over, they decided that life was too short and they announced that they were finally in love, and getting married. I congratulated them. I always wondered if there was a soul mate for every one, because Sherlock, and John and Mycroft and Lestrade, seemed to prove that theory correct. I wonder if I would ever have someone just as special. I always knew that love changed a person but I had no idea how much, until Sherlock thanked me, for talking to John when he would not listen to him. I was in shock, but then he also thanked me for the time I had taken care of him in that crazy high fever, and I though he had forgotten. I was glad that John was good for him and made him better. 

On the day of their wedding I was sitting at a table when John had asked me to dance, I was searching for Sherlock, but I had not found him anywhere so I followed John to the dance floor. 

“You know I never said thank you, but I hope that what Sherlock has in mind for you can make that up,” he said in a smile and then he spun me around a few times.

I was getting dizzy when I felt another pair of arms catch me.

“Thank you once again, Molly. This would not have been possible had you not helped me out once again. I won’t say thank you for the fact that you called my brother and I had to spend hours in that little room with him talking about how much he had missed me, but I will for what followed. And with that I want you to be open minded, because this is my gift to you.” He said, in his deep baritone voiced that sounded happy in this very special time for him.

I was spun again, but this time I saw who caught me, and I felt an electrified current flow through me, as his bare hands touched my shoulders to steady me, and that was when I knew he was the one, and my answered to soul mates was answered.


End file.
